


The Burning Times

by elixia13



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, F/M, Historical, Romance, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-29
Updated: 2010-01-29
Packaged: 2017-10-06 19:24:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elixia13/pseuds/elixia13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two people meeting in a very different time.  Perhaps<br/>Mulder's fear of fire and Scully's discomfort with the unknown go back<br/>much further than we've been told.  Set in the British Isles in the<br/>fifteenth century. Alternate Universe/Past Lives</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Burning Times

**Author's Note:**

> (Notes written long ago *facepalms*)
> 
> The real Burning Times was a period of hundreds of years during which millions (an estimated 9 million) European women and men were killed for suspicion of witchcraft. Sometimes, whole villages were burned for the causes of religious and secular power, including the emergence of a male-controlled medical profession. Eventually, it perpetuated itself by creating an industry centered on the torture and litigation of innocent people. If that isn't a hideous conspiracy I don't know what is. I've tried to be true to what I know of the period, and I've done some research on cultural issues, but I'm not claiming to be Jack Finney here as far as historical accuracy goes. I like to think that the spirit of it is accurate, even if all the facts aren't. Some of the things I'm writing about are lost in the fires of history, so even well-researched books are logical conjecture and reconstruction strung together on all too few facts.
> 
> On a lighter note, my mental working title for this has been The Field Where I Fried. What can I say? I let this story lie dormant on my hard drive for quite a while, but I finally decided to edit it and send it out. There will be another brief author's note at the end of the story. I know! I'm sorry! I like to blab!
> 
> "No one knew of a devil. Not until they bled it out of them." **

She was always most at home helping the ill, the hurt. It was her  
living and her life, her place in the workings of the village.  
Everyone knew that if you had a pain, or your child had a fever, or  
your horse was lame, you called on Diana the healer. *She'll move  
heaven and earth to ease you* the people said, but Diana knew that was  
partly false. Only the earth, she would tell anyone foolish enough to  
spout such things in front of her. The earth will heal you; it's all  
you need.

And they had named her after the goddess, of course. Her mother had  
told her the story a dozen times or more. She was born so white and  
glowing that they had named her after the lady of the  
moon. And certainly the moon was very beautiful, but it was far away,  
unreachable. The earth's beneath our feet, she knew that, and it  
gives us everything we need to live in happiness and  
health.

From earliest childhood, she'd been in love with the plants that grew  
close to the ground, unassumingly. The useful plants, her mother told  
her. She would walk along in the garden of their little house and  
find a leaf to her liking. She'd crumple it in her tiny hands, smell  
it, put it in her mouth. Though she learned right away that some of  
them tasted nasty, and her mother  
warned her that they could do harm as well as good. But others were  
nice and minty or sweet, and she knew to stay away from berries unless  
her mother told her it was alright.

So she was fated to be a healer. Her sister read it her *stones* of  
all things, and Diana didn't argue with her. Diana knew that many  
people thought her sister would become an excellent  
diviner, but she didn't really trust what the oracles said. She could  
say with no doubt that plantain would draw out a snake bite, and  
willow would cool a fever, but how her sister saw the  
future in a random design . . . Diana didn't understand it. But she  
could respect it and keep her mouth shut for the sake of peace.

She found she had to do the same thing around William, though she  
didn't mind it as much. He infuriated her, to be honest. Half the  
time she had to call on the coolness of the earth herself to  
keep from kicking him off her doorstep so hard he'd land back in his  
schoolroom where he belonged. Goddess! he seemed designed purposely  
to make her swear at him one moment and  
kiss him the next.

As she was fated for healing and herbcraft, so he was meant for  
learning and teaching. He remembered every line he'd ever read and  
nearly drove his few students to distraction expecting  
them to do the same. Of course, they didn't have half his brains but  
their father had the money for book-buying. William's employer was an  
ugly English lord of some sort sent over by the  
king to keep an eye on the peasants. He was thrilled to find a man  
who could even read in what he considered a backwards hamlet in the  
middle of hell. William cursed the man daily, but he  
knew that without this luck he would have had to leave for the city to  
earn his living with books. The city or the monastery, he didn't know  
which was worse.

Either would have taken him away from Diana, and without her the books  
meant nothing. On a night when the brats had been especially dense,  
and the words blurred in front of his eyes, he  
needed to be able to slip over to her small warm house. The fragrance  
of whatever herb she was crushing or curing would hang redolent in the  
air, and when she was done with her work she  
would put out all the candles save one by her bed. With an enchanting  
smile on her face, she would take him by the hand and lead him out of  
the shadows.

Diana remembered the first time he had visited her in the night. They  
had been very young, not yet twenty. His father was the village's  
magistrate, and William was working with him.   
Studying the history of law she supposed. Or the arts of intimidation  
more like. They'd met a few time in the commons, but she'd never  
stayed to talk to him. She'd heard things about him, that he was  
touched or something. Not quite right in any case. Not the kind of  
man she could see trusting. And even when she'd gone to his house to  
treat his mother for her nerves she hadn't spoken to him.

But then he knocked on her door one night. No, he said, his mother  
was fine, but could he speak to her? Diana had glanced back at her  
mother and then walked out into the garden with William. "What do you  
want, William?" she asked him. He heard the suspicions in her tone,  
and she immediately regretted it. His green eyes went gray and he  
looked down, as though he was ashamed. Perhaps he isn't anything like  
his father, Diana thought. "Why have you come to see me?" she asked  
again with a softer tone.

He looked up at her again, and she had to suppress a sigh at the look  
in his eyes. She'd never seen such pain in the eyes of a man. "I . .  
.I wanted to ask you, well, I heard . . .that  
your family knew of the mysteries, the secrets," he said almost in a  
whisper. He was serious, she could see, but she still couldn't stop  
herself from snorting quietly at that.

"Mysteries, William? You'll want my sister for that," and she began  
to walk away.

"No, please," she heard him protest behind her. "Please, I need your  
help," and his voce almost broke at that. She heard the pain in his  
voice, and there was no way she could continue away  
from him. Perhaps she could help him some way. "Diana, you know more  
about nature than anyone else here, I think."

She had to nod her head and smile at that. "I imagine I might, but  
it's hardly a mystery William. It's all in the five senses you were  
born with. That's all. Not secret, but simply waiting to be  
noticed."

"Have you heard of what happened to my sister, Diana?" His apparent  
change of topic confused her, but she tried to answer him  
thoughtfully.

"I believe your mother said that she'd died from a fever when she was  
small."

William snorted quietly this time, "Did you happen to ask her where  
the grave was?"

"Of course not! Her nerves are bad enough as it is, William. What  
would that accomplish?"

"My sister didn't die," he caught her surprised expression but  
continued. "My mother may tell you that old lie, but she knows in her  
heart as I do that it's not true."

"Then what happened to her?" Diana was beginning to get a bad feeling  
about this, a very bad feeling. There were a dozen possibilities,  
both frightening and sad, that occurred to her as she watched William  
prepare to continue. But none of them compared to what he finally  
said.

"I believe she was taken by fairies," he spoke it quietly and  
resolutely, but Diana could not contain herself.

"You really *are* daft, William! Fairies! I've never heard such a  
thing from a grown man!" He had to be kidding, she thought.

But apparently he wasn't. He'd been leaning against a tree, but he  
stood up to his full height and focused his gaze on her. "I'm sorry  
for wasting your time with such trash," he spoke bitterly, "I'll be on  
my way." And he strode purposely away from the small house. Still  
shocked from his pronouncement, Diana decided to follow him a bit.  
See if he went looking under toadstools perhaps.

As she was small and accustomed to the woods, she was able to follow  
close to him without him suspecting her presence. For a few hundred  
yards, until he thought he was out of sight she  
supposed, he continued his brisk gait. But then suddenly he stopped,  
and Diana had to stop as well and breath as quietly as she could. She  
was terrified that he'd sensed her and stopped to confront her.

But he must have been too unaware to notice anything. Standing where  
he'd stopped, he took a deep breath and put his head down in his  
hands. With a hollow thud that masked her gasp, he  
leaned back against a large oak tree. His breath catching, he slid  
down the length of the tree until he was sitting in the soft bed of  
leaves at its base. As surprised as she was to see his odd  
behavior, young Diana was not prepared to hear his cries, his sniffles  
as he rocked himself against the thick oak.

She desperately wanted to go to him. Take him home and give him an  
infusion to calm him down. Tell him that she was sorry for mocking  
him, that she wanted to hear his story, the story  
that had sent him out her way with questions about mysteries and  
fairies. But she knew that if she went to him now he would hate her  
for seeing his weakness. Stepping lightly over the  
ground in her soft leather boots, Diana made her way home.

When she got back to her house that night, Diana's mother asked, "What  
was that about, Diana?" Diana didn't know what to say; should she tell  
her mother what he had said? Or, even worse,  
what she had said, what he had done?

Her confusion and hesitation were audible in her voice as she replied,  
"He came asking some strange questions. Some nonsense about fairies.  
I . . . think he's crazy or something." What she  
wasn't prepared for was her mother's sharp look.

"There's more in this world than you know of, Diana. Don't presume  
that just because you've not laid eyes on something that it doesn't  
exist. There are strange things in that boy's eyes, but I don't think  
he's crazy." And with that she returned her attention to her  
needlework. Diana knew that she was excused, and that she'd  
disappointed her mother. She would have to find him and apologize to  
him if nothing else.

Her plan was to stop him when she saw him crossing in the square, but  
a week went by with no opportunity presenting itself. During the  
week, Diana began to feel worse and worse about how she'd responded to  
him, about what she'd seen after. The need to find him was strong,  
and finally one day they did cross paths. She spotted him walking  
towards her with his head down, his steps  
brisk. Maneuvering herself into his path, she tried to catch his  
eyes, but he seemed to never look up. "William." Nothing, no  
acknowledgement of her voice. And then her was passing her, and  
she grabbed his arm. "William," was all she said as she finally got a  
look in his eyes. They were shadowed and dark from lack of rest, and  
they were angry.

"Let me go," he mumbled quickly, but she only held tighter to his arm.

 

"William, please, I need to talk to you." This wasn't going anything  
as planned. She was just going to apologize and then leave, but it  
wasn't working out that way. "Please, I'm sorry for what I said. I,"  
this was definitely not going the way she wanted it to, "I was wrong."

His gaze then lost some of its anger, softened, and she suddenly felt  
that her confession of guilt had been worth it. She dropped her hold  
on his arm, but he didn't step away. "Please, come for a  
walk with me." And he nodded slowly, and they walked off towards the  
cool and quiet of the woods.

After walking silently for a few minutes, they both sat down on a  
large fallen tree that was propped a couple feet off the ground by its  
root system. "I'm sure you think I'm crazy," began William in a flat  
voice, "but I'm not. At least, I don't think I am. I've seen things  
that have made me doubt everything I've been taught, by my father, by  
the church. When my sister was taken, I saw the futility of all my  
learning."

Reaching into his shirt, William drew out a narrow thong of soft  
leather with a charm attached. It was a thin, pointed gray stone with  
gleaming silver covering the upper part and forming the  
clasp. "It's called a fairy knife. A piece of flint dipped in pure  
silver designed to protect against malevolent fairies." His eyes  
caught hers, begging her not to mock him. "I don't know if you  
remember, but last year a bard and his sister came through here. She  
knew, somehow, what had happened to my sister, saw it inside me. The  
bard taught me the songs he knew about the fairies, and on the night  
they left town his sister gave me this. I've never removed it since,"  
he finished quietly, "or showed it to a living soul."

For a moment she simply sat next to him thinking over his words, her  
head watching the changing patterns of light on the forest floor.  
"Why do you think she was taken by fairies?" Diana began, still  
watching the ground. "If she truly didn't die of a fever, she could  
have been taken by a stranger, or wandered off and got lost--"

"No," he interrupted. "No, it was no man that took her." She looked  
up in surprise at his vehemence. His eyes were focused, but not on  
her. Gazing past her to some point in the distance, he continued, "We  
were walking alone one day, and we decided to go exploring in a cave.  
As we went further in, we began to see dim, dancing lights up ahead.  
We pressed on, and the next thing I knew I was back outside. It had  
been morning when we left home, but the light in the sky was dimming,  
and I had no idea where I'd been. Somehow, I stumbled home, and it  
wasn't until I got there that I realized I was alone. My father  
searched the cave, and he said he found nothing. No tracks, no candle  
drippings, no opening at the other end where we could have seen light  
from."

William breathed deeply and looked down, "The way he looked at me. He  
thought I did something to her. Something too awful to tell. I tried  
to tell him what I could remember, but he just shook his head and  
said, 'No, we'll have to say that she died. I can't have a scandal.'  
And so I could never talk to anyone, not even my mother and father.  
And my sister was gone as if she'd  
never been." The last sentence trailed off quietly into silence. He  
sat with his hands steadying him on the fallen tree and just breathed  
steadily.

Diana wasn't sure what to do, but she turned towards him. Putting one  
leg over the side, she straddled the tree, her skirts pulled tight  
over the surface between her knees. She reached one arm behind his  
shoulders, and drew him towards her. When he was tilted slightly, his  
body leaning into hers for support, she whispered into his ear, "I'm  
sorry, I'm sorry." He closed his  
eyes as though he was in pain and leaned into her a little more,  
accepting her comfort. After few quiet moments spent like this, he  
pulled back a little from her embrace and looked her in the  
eyes. The questions in his eyes were answered by hers, and he moved  
his long legs closer to her and swung one of them over the tree so  
that he could face her.

He closed his eyes and moved in towards her until his lips pressed  
against hers. For a moment he just stayed there, feeling her soft,  
full lips pushing lightly against his, and then he parted his mouth  
slightly in order to get closer. Her motions mirrored his own as he  
opened his lips farther, working closer, closer to her. And then he  
moved his tongue to hesitantly meet hers, and she breathed a quiet  
moan. Her hands came up behind his head pulling him in farther. His  
hands moved first to her arms where he felt their sleek muscles, their  
capable strength, and then across to her surprisingly delicate  
collarbones. While their mouths continued to move together, he  
explored those intriguing bony hollows before allowing his hands to  
smooth their way down  
over small, firm breasts.

At the sensation of his hands moving over her nipples, she gasped in  
exhilarated surprise. Her hands, which had been slowly exploring his  
back slipped down to his hips and pulled him  
towards her until they touched at every point, her chin resting warmly  
by his throat. He reached under her and motioned for her to wrap her  
legs around his waist. Her arms gripping him now  
around his shoulders, he stood and swung his legs free of the tree  
they'd been on. Her legs still wrapped around him, he knelt on the  
soft forest floor and bent over to lay her down on her back.

Quickly sitting back up on his knees, he watched in mute joy as she  
undid her bodice and her skirt. Reaching one hand up towards him she  
popped open the catch on his pants and pulled  
them down over his slim hips. Down to nothing but their long white  
shirts, they came together again, needing to touch each other. She  
pulled him down close, and as they moved together,  
their bodies and souls merging, she knew that this too was fate. His  
breath expanded her lungs, and her blood ran in his veins. They were  
one.

*********

It wasn't until they had dressed and gone that William realized he'd  
lost his cherished fairy knife. He went back to look for it the next  
day, but it was gone, not to be found. New love took the edge off his  
obsession with fairyland, so in the end he didn't worry too much about  
the loss.

Afterward, it just felt natural for Diana to take William back home  
with her. Her mother smiled approvingly and served them both dinner.  
William began to visit the small house most evenings,  
sometimes bringing with him some fresh game to the delight of Diana's  
mother. Diana's sister and a young stone-mason from town completed  
the quintet, and they spent many rousing evenings by the fire regaling  
each other with stories and songs. The stone-mason by the name of  
John had quite a talent on the fiddle, and Lizzy could play the  
whistle. And of course William had his story collection in his mind  
along with the ballads the bard had taught him. Diana and her mother  
both had lovely voices, and they would sing back and forth.

"I wish you were in yonder tree, said the false knight on the road, "  
sang Margaret.

"A ladder underneath, said the wee boy and still he stood," continued  
Diana.

"The ladder'd surely break, said the false knight on the road."

"And you will surely fall, said the wee boy and still he stood."

And the women would all fall into laughter as the men stomped their  
feet for more. "Pick up your whistle and join them Lizzy," someone  
would cajole, either William or John, and the next verse would pick up  
after the last. Or John and Lizzy would play their instruments madly,  
each feeding off the other's rhythm, as William and Diana danced  
around them until they fell down out of breath in each other's arms.

John and Lizzy were planning a wedding for spring. John had built a  
place for them to live near the center of the village, and they would  
be happy. He had come into some money building a house for some  
Englishman who had come to live on the outskirts of the village. No  
one knew why the man and his family had come here, but there was no  
reason to be suspicious. The work was welcomed by many, including  
William who had begun to despair of what he should do. It had become  
clear to him that he didn't want to continue working with his father,  
the magistrate. William's father had always put up with William's  
desire for scholarship only as long as it didn't detract from his  
work. It seemed the only way to break away from the man and learn  
more was to leave. Leave the village for the city, or even a  
monastery, and leave Diana.

Soon after the Englishman had settled himself into his grand house,  
William was asked by his father to go meet with the man. William did  
so, and found himself with an offer of employment.   
He would teach the Englishman's sons how to read and write in exchange  
for the money he needed to live separately from his father. Enough  
money, in fact, to buy books for himself as  
well as set himself up nicely in a small house. William expected to  
have to fight his father on the issue, but his father didn't even seem  
surprised. He congratulated William on his new  
opportunity and sent him off with a fare-thee-well. It was strange,  
but William was more interested in telling Diana and her mother. They  
had come to feel more like family then his own  
parents.

Eventually, the workings of the village adapted to the new presence,  
and days went by quickly, only the seasonal festivals marking the  
passing of the years. John and Lizzy married and had a daughter named  
Janet. Everyone expected William and Diana to marry any day, but they  
never worried about it themselves. They were content to be friends  
and lovers. Diana's mother understood the situation better than most.  
When Janet was born, she took to spending half her time staying down  
by the village with her older daughter and half up the hill with  
Diana. Diana set the house up for her livelihood as an herbwife and  
midwife. Margaret was wonderful with the dying and the grieving,  
something that still unnerved Diana, so she helped out when her  
services were needed.

Margaret knew that the house up hill saw frequent visits from William,  
and she was glad of it for her daughter. They fought, certainly, but  
she thought they would come to an understanding in  
time. She had heard them squabble plenty of times, and it was never  
over anything serious. William would be angry because Diana refused  
to accept his ideas that to her were ridiculous. Diana would be  
furious and hurt because William hadn't come by for a while and could  
never be found when she looked for him. One day, Margaret was sure,  
Diana and William would become more forgiving of each other and then  
there would be another joining of hands.

In this way, many years passed by, and the families were as happy as  
anyone could expect to be. William watched Lizzy's daughter Janet grow  
into a tall, strong child, and every day she reminded him more of his  
sister. He still hoped to find her one day, though he knew most  
people thought him a fool for it. Sometimes, he would feel guilty that  
his time spent with Diana was a  
betrayal of his sister. There was no question that he had to keep  
teaching; without that position he could never have the resources to  
pursue the mysteries he sought to understand. But Diana--was she a  
beacon in the night, or a siren song?

So, unsure of which was the right course, he chose to take both. When  
the need to search was undeniable or when he had discovered a new  
clue, William would run off chasing possibilities, hoping that one day  
he would not return alone. These disappearances always made Diana  
furious, and she was often tempted to bar her door to him once and for  
all. But he would return to her after his quests, stand on her  
doorstep exhausted and hungry, scratched and bruised, quiet and  
distant, and always alone. What could she doe but patch him up and  
comfort him, feed him and share her bed for the night?

And still they had lovely nights when he seemed contented with his  
life in the present, with her and with himself. One lovely evening he  
showed up at her door with a bottle of honey wine in  
his hand. She'd had a wonderful day; she'd attended a birthing that  
went beautifully with very little pain for mother or child. She'd  
left a perfectly healthy baby boy in his mother's arms and  
come home to finish some projects she'd been working on. She had  
decided to treat herself with a little indulgence for once. It was  
late summer, and she knew where she could get a great  
quantity of rose petals close to dropping from the bush. Diana had a  
weakness for the scent of roses, so she gathered them and brought them  
home. Resolving to dry half of the petals, she  
steeped the rest of them in candle wax all day. She made a few tapers  
from that wax, intending to keep them for a very special evening.

When William arrived with the mead and a smile on his face, she knew  
that the candles wouldn't wait long to be used. "You look like you  
had a good day, " she gently teased him; it was rare to  
see him with such a happy disposition.

"Well, the children actually seemed to hear half of what I heard, for  
once. And then the old man invited me for a drink with him,  
privately. I've been there years now, and I'd barely seen  
beyond the school room and the kitchen. He's not a bad man, Diana; I  
think we can trust him. Hey," he continued, raising the bottle, "he  
even let me take this with me as a gesture of good will. I think we  
can put it to good use."

She arched one eye-brow at him, but smiled nonetheless. This was too  
rare a moment to waste on squabbling over politics. "Well, I have a  
little gesture of good-will, but I don't think I want to  
share it with *him*." With that she took the bottle of mead from him  
and set it down on the table. She took his cold hands in her warm  
ones and sat before the fire, pulling him down beside  
her.

"What kind of gesture did you have in mind, Diana?" he countered, not  
one to be thrown by her innuendoes.

"Oh, something like this," and she slid her hands up under his shirt  
while simultaneously moving in to kiss him on the lips. She felt with  
her mouth rather than heard his quick intake of air as she rubbed her  
soft thumbs in a circular motion over his nipples, teasing them into  
hardness. For a long moment, they lingered like that, her bent over  
him, him leaning back on his elbows. When  
he didn't think he could stand it anymore, she broke the kiss.

He all but panted, "Well, I think that might win the man over, but I  
don't know that I could share graciously."

She tossed a crafty smirk at him, and began to stand up. "Hold that  
thought. I just need to get something for us." She grabbed a pair of  
her new candles from the cooling rack, quickly cut their wicks, and  
set them in holders. Nodding her head for William to follow, she  
proceeded into the bedroom and set a candle on either side of her  
small bed. She lit them both, and as soon as the wax began to melt, a  
strong, heady scent of roses permeated the room. Diana sat on the  
edge of the bed and beckoned him near with one white hand. He came  
quickly to her side and dropped to his knees in front of her. She  
bent down to kiss him again, her fingers working through the soft,  
dark hair at the base of his neck.

His hands worked frantically to pull open her bodice, and when he  
succeeded, he moved his lips away from hers. Laying his head sideways  
on her chest, he felt her warmth seep into him, he heard her heart  
beating quickly for him. With his hands around her small waist, he  
lifted her farther back on the bed. Instead of joining her up there,  
he stayed on his knees in front of her. He took his hands from her  
waist, and slid them down her legs. Under her skirt, her legs were  
small and shapely, strong and beautiful, perfect. Pushing up her  
skirt to see them with his eyes, instead of merely his hands, he drank  
in the creaminess of her skin, the soft red hair that shimmered all  
over her body.

Needing to experience her with all his senses, he ran his tongue long  
one perfect leg from ankle to thigh. Finding the soft flesh of her  
thighs, he kissed them as gently as you would a baby, just teasing her  
skin with his lips. He looked up to see her smiling, and he took that  
as his cue to go farther. Taking a small breath to sustain himself, he  
moved her legs apart so he could see all of her. He slid his tongue  
between her folds of flesh and felt himself surrounded by her--her  
sweet pungent taste, her heady scent, her velvety softness, the white  
iridescence of her skin, and the swift breathing coming from above.

Giving himself permission to explore her, he let his tongue find the  
places in her that would pleasure her most. When his tongue found the  
small nub of nerves, he heard her breath hitch in and then sigh out  
pleasantly. He continued at his glorious task until he felt her tense  
and then her passion break around him. When she finally lay still, he  
crawled up onto the bed, moving as languidly as a cat, sliding himself  
until he was lying along her. When she opened her eyes, he made a  
moment of delicious eye contact before her eyes strayed along the  
length of his body.

"Looks like you have little problem there, " she smiled, cocking her  
head down towards his tented pants. "I think I can take care of that  
for you." She sat up in the bed and got onto her knees. Kneeling  
over him, she quickly pulled off his pants and his shirt. Once she  
was done pulling off her own half-undone clothing, she swung one leg  
over him so than she spanned his width with her thighs. Free of his  
pants, his erection was all too obvious. Gently taking hold of his  
base, she moved herself to let him penetrate her.

She was wet and open from her previous attentions, and she sighed with  
contentment as he slid inside her, filling her up perfectly. His  
moans joined hers as she tightened her muscles and moved up and down  
on top of him. Bracing her hands on his shoulders, she bent forward  
over him while she was still moving above him. She thrust her tongue  
inside his mouth, and together they found a rhythm, a circle of giving  
and taking. She felt his chest shuddering under hers, and then he  
released. His spent passion flowed around them, and she sank down  
onto his body to rest. The fragrance of their exhilaration mixing  
with the thick, sweet scent of roses lulled them both to sleep.

Sleeping within Williams's arms, Diana dreamed that she had fallen  
asleep in a rose garden. In the garden, a patch of shade moved across  
her and she woke with a chill. Shivering, she pulled her green cloak  
around her and walked about the garden to see if she was alone.  
Spying a particularly beautiful rose, she plucked it. Hearing a sound  
behind her, she looked up, and when she looked back down she saw that  
she held nothing but a bunch of yarrow. A sad, familiar voice spoke  
behind her.

"Why pulls thou the rose, Diana,  
Among the groves so green,  
And all to kill the bonnie babe  
That we got us between?"

William stood among the rose bushes, seeming unaffected by the thorns,  
but somehow it wasn't the William she knew. He was thinner, with  
longer hair, a wilder face; he looked untamed. "What are you talking  
about, William? Did we . . ."

He ignored her, turned his back to her, continued in his mournful  
tone.

"Oh, pleasant is the fairly land,  
But an eerie tale to tell,  
Ay at the end of seven years  
We pay a tithe to hell;  
I am so fair and full of flesh,  
I fear it be myself."

Diana woke with a start to find herself in her own rumpled bed,  
surrounded by the scent of the spent rose candles. She looked over to  
see William sitting on the edge of the bed, his back to her. For a  
moment, she allowed herself to appreciate the smooth strength of his  
back with the morning sun glowing off of it. Lifting a hand to softly  
caress his shoulder blade, she spoke his name, "William." He didn't  
reply, but she heard his breath hitch and saw the muscles on his back  
ripple.

She hadn't seen him cry since that day so long ago in the woods.  
Draping one end of the bed covers over him and the other over herself,  
she sat up next to him. "What is it?" she asked, pulling him closer  
to her for warmth and comfort. She was suddenly afraid. The  
foreboding tone of her dream combined with William's strange behavior  
was confusing her. Last night had been so wonderful; what was  
changed?

William composed himself slightly and finally spoke to her, "I'm  
sorry." He breathed deeply and moved one arm up around Diana's back,  
holding her as tightly as she held him. "I just woke up and realized  
what would happen to me if I lost you the way I lost my sister. I . .  
. need you. I trust you more than anyone, more than myself."

She leaned over and kissed him warmly on the side of his mouth. "I  
need you too, William, more than I ever thought I could." The darker  
aspects of her dream had left her, but she was left with one surety.  
"Actually, to be more accurate, we need you."

He looked at her quizzically, clearly not understanding. "We? You  
mean us?"

"No," she shook her head, smiling, and then placed a hand on her  
smooth white stomach. "Us," and she drew his gaze down to where her  
hand lay.

For a moment she thought he was going to pass out, but then the words  
came. "But . . .us? How? I mean . . .last night? How can you  
know?"

"I just know. I guess it's one of those mysteries you were asking  
about," she smirked at him gently. "I guess there are some things  
Lizzy got right," she continued mostly to herself.

"I don't know how you can know, but it's not the first time a woman  
has confused me beyond all understanding." He took a deep breath  
then, and seemed to grow taller, even sitting on the bed. "I could be  
this confused for the rest of my life. Diana, will you be my wife?"

"Oh, William, " she laughed, "my mother will be so happy!" She threw  
her arms around his neck and kissed him, the sunlight bathing both of  
them in its glow.

*********

Finally, their bliss had to end, for the day at least. Diana needed  
to check on some people who were getting over a fever, and William had  
to get to the school room before his students did. When William  
released his pupils for the day, he sought out his employer. There  
was some excitement in the household, as a messenger had come from  
England the night before. William was told that the nobleman was too  
busy to see him, but when the nobleman spotted William he briskly  
corralled the confused teacher into his private room.

"Sir, I wanted to speak with you, but I was told you had received a  
messenger from London. I have wonderful news."

"What would that be, William?"

"My Diana is with child, and she's agreed to marry me," William spoke  
proudly.

Williams's employer raised one eyebrow and spoke with little  
enthusiasm, "Indeed. What grand news. How many months with child is  
she?"

Lost in his bliss, William didn't notice the nobleman's less than  
thrilled reaction. "Well, sir, barely a day, I suppose."

"And she knows already? That's ridiculous."

"Well, sir, she told me we had got a child. I have no reason to doubt  
her; she's been midwife to most children around here the last several  
years."

"Yes, I've heard that, that she's the local cunning woman."

"Well, sir, she's a wonderful healer. Ask anyone in the village."

"And her medical training? How am I to suppose she's qualified to  
treat the ill?" The Englishman's questions were coming faster.  
William could see he was getting at something, but he was honestly at  
a loss as to what might be the problem.

"She learned it herself, I believe, with training from her mother."

"Her mother? Do you have any knowledge of her meeting with others?  
Other women? Perhaps she seems to have secrets?"

"I'm sorry, sir, but I don't know what you're talking about. She  
meets with her mother and sister some evenings, but it's certainly not  
a secret." Still not understanding what was going on, William began  
to get very nervous. His heart was beating faster, and the room had  
taken on a slow, steady spin. The world was off balance.

"Her sister? Who is that?"

"Lizzy, the stonemason's wife."

"Her! I've heard things about her." The older man began to pace  
swiftly back and forth in front of William. "This messenger I've had  
from London tells me that these sorts of women are becoming dangerous,  
poisoning children, consorting with evil beings. Instructions have  
come directly from the King in this matter."

"Sir," William replied, his voice threatening to fail him, "Diana  
cured your Charlie when he was ill, do you not remember? Lizzy's a  
bit odd, but she's a good mother and wife."

"Yes, I'm sure," said the Englishman, clearly doubting William. "You  
be sure this woman hasn't bewitched you, young man. This bears very  
serious consideration, very serious thought on what actions are to be  
taken." And on that note the older man took his leave of William.  
Needing some time to think things though, William slipped back up the  
stairs to the comfort of the school room.

What had he done? "Oh, god," he thought, "what have I done?" Still  
not quite believing what his employer had said, had accused Diana of,  
William paced the length of the narrow school room. How could he  
explain to Diana that he hadn't known what he was saying would arouse  
suspicions? She was in this trouble because of him.

So it happened that night at twilight that William was still in the  
nobleman's house, standing in the window on the school room. The room  
was on the top floor of the house, and William had  
always prized it for its view of most of the town. The houses  
appeared to be nestled among the trees comfortably, securely. But  
this night he spotted a column of dark smoke rising from one  
house. "It's warm yet to have lit such a fire," he thought, and then  
he realized what house it was. The small stone house where Lizzy and  
her family lived was filled with fire.

Borrowing one of the nobleman's horses, William sped towards the  
burning building, but it was all for naught. Though the house was  
stone, the roof and furniture were wood. By the time  
William arrived the roof had collapsed, and the stone walls were as  
hot as any oven. There was nothing to do for anyone who'd been  
inside. Below the crackling of the fire, William heard a low  
moan behind him.

The last light had left the sky, and the fire was burning itself out,  
so he lit a torch off the embers and went searching for the source of  
the sound. William found John, Lizzy's husband, crouched by a tree  
not far from the house. "John! What happened here?" he began until  
he got close enough to see the man he was speaking to. John wasn't  
burned, but his arms were covered in  
blood which rushed from fresh gashes. He held a dagger in one hand,  
and it's blade shone red in the torch-light.

William rushed closer to the dying man. "John! What have you done?  
What have you--"

John whispered hoarsely, "I had no choice in this." With that he  
closed his eyes and sighed out a long breath, slumping to the ground.  
William gently extricated the dagger from the dead man's  
hand and began to wipe it off until he stopped with a gasp. The color  
of the wood, the scratches on the blade . . . This was his father's,  
the magistrate's, knife. There was no doubt in his mind. "What  
happened here?" he thought, and as he stood up from John's body he  
found part of his answer.

Nailed to the tree was a piece of paper, an official warrant from the  
magistrate's office. "Let it be known," read the awful, official  
paper, "that those listed below have been condemned for WITCHCRAFT."  
And this very evening that English bastard had been asking him about  
his wife and her family. And now this night they were dead under the  
witchcraft laws. "These deaths are my fault," William thought to  
himself, and his next thought was, "Diana."

Remounting his borrowed horse, William raced the animal back up the  
hill to Diana's cottage. She opened the door to find him gasping for  
breath, covered in soot and bloodied. Pulling him  
inside, she questioned him, "By the gods William, what have you gotten  
into? How do you get yourself into these things?" She was busy  
checking him for wounds, but as his silence continued  
she was forced to look at his face. She saw his eyes and found  
emptiness there, a sorrow deeper than his usual guilt, and fear. Fear  
of her? Or for her? And a pleading, begging with her to  
what? Understand?

Finally he spoke, placing his hands on her arms, mindless of how  
filthy her was. "Please sit down Diana," he asked quietly, but  
forcefully.

"What is it William?"

"Please, please just sit down. Just sit down." He was begging now,  
and it frightened her more than anything else. Fear and suspicion  
grew in her eyes but she wouldn't back down.

"Tell me now William!" Her voice rose, "Tell me--"

"There was a fire," he began quietly, holding tighter to her arms.  
"John and Lizzy's house, I just came from there. I was too late."  
She looked at him, too shocked to speak. "The roof fell in. Whoever  
was inside . . .," he continued, trying desperately to help her  
understand without actually saying the words that would be inescapably  
final. She was refusing to comprehend, and he looked away for a  
moment.

When he looked back at her, tears were welling in his eyes. "I think  
someone made John do it. I found this nailed to a tree above where I  
found him." Struggling to control the shaking in his arms, he handed  
the warrant over to Diana.

And in that instant she understood. Her confused eyes hardened and  
went dark. "I'll kill them. I will kill them, and if you try to stop  
me, William, I'll kill you."

"Please, Diana, please, we can get away from this place. I have some  
money saved, and your skills will be welcome anywhere." His voice was  
cracking with desperation. "You, you could keep us alive in the woods  
until we found a place to go. There's no way to fight them and win."

But Diana would hear none of it. "Your father is behind this, and for  
all I know you are too. Why should I trust you, William? For all I  
know, this is all your fault," she hissed at him. Pulling on her  
cape, she ran out the door and jumped on the horse William borrowed.  
She was off towards town before William could stop her.

He caught up with her at the charred remains of John and Lizzy's  
house. The fire was mostly burned out, but it was still smoking and  
the acrid odor of burnt things hung heavily in the air. Diana was  
kneeling next to John's body.

He went to her cautiously, not sure of how she would react. She spoke  
before he could think of something to say. "I can't believe that he  
was the one to do this. I will not believe it. He was a good man; he  
loved them. My mother thought of him as a son. Oh, gods, my  
mother--," Diana broke off, truly realizing for the first time hat her  
mother had died in the little stone house as well.

William moved to comfort her, but she snapped, "Just stay away from  
me, please. Just stay away!" He walked away from her then to give  
her time to grieve in solitude. He left her the horse so she could  
return home more quickly when she was ready. Alone in the dark, Diana  
became alert to the sound of swiftly approaching horses. Three riders  
broke through into the clearing--the Englishman, the magistrate, and  
Joseph, the magistrate's deputy. The latter had been taken on by  
William's father, and the magistrate was clearly thrilled to have a  
deputy who would not talk back as William had.

Joseph dismounted his horse and moved close to Diana. William's  
father formally proclaimed, "You are under arrest for the crimes of  
horse theft and witchcraft." Joseph roughly tied her hands behind her  
and swung her up onto the magistrate's horse. At this William, who  
had heard the commotion and run back madly, rushed the deputy and  
punched him squarely in the jaw. "Give her to me! She's no  
criminal!" He hardly knew what he yelled in his desperation to get  
her back safely.

Thinking the deputy was down, William began to run towards Diana. He  
only got a few paces away before the heavy, blunt side of Joseph's  
sword me with the top of his head. As unconsciousness enveloped him,  
his only thought was, "no."

When William woke up on the cold stone floor of the jail, his first  
thought was that he had fallen down a well and was drowning. Swimming  
gradually towards consciousness, he saw Joseph standing over him,  
water bucket in hand. "Wake up you bastard or I'll douse you again,"  
the broad young man growled. "We've got plans for you and your witch  
today. Can't be late."

William pulled himself painfully into a siting position and mumbled,  
"Go to hell," which earned him a swift kick to the stomach. Already  
reeling from a slight concussion, William turned on his side and  
retched. Joseph turned and left, slamming the door closed with a  
reverberating thud, leaving William to be sick alone. He kept heaving  
until he was too exhausted to continue and simply sat there trying to  
breath steadily.

As his mind cleared he realized that Diana was somewhere here,  
possibly in pain. He found himself able to get to his feet, but then  
he had to desperately grasp the wall to keep from falling back onto  
the floor. Once the world returned to focus and the hellish pounding  
in his head quieted, William began to search his surroundings for a  
way out. He'd played in this jail and a child and knew it well. He  
knew it was secure; that escape was impossible.

Finally, after William had been reduced to slowly pacing the tiny  
cell, Joseph was at the door again. "We have some entertainment  
planned for you," he sneered, and grabbed the prisoner by one arm,  
propelling him down the hall. William knew that he was being directed  
to a large room down the hall, the room his father had always  
preferred. Joseph shoved William though the door so that he landed on  
his hands and knees, then pulled the unsteady man up roughly and tied  
him to a chair that was built into the stone wall.

William's eyes were immediately drawn to Diana, who was tied hand and  
foot to a wooden chair in the center of the room. She was pale and  
her clothes were ripped some, but she appeared unhurt. Her expression  
was a mix of anger and fear, but she was relived to see William walk  
in, however unsteadily. "Diana, I'm so sorry," William began  
dejectedly. "Have they hurt you?"

"We had to wait until you woke up before we could start the fun," the  
magistrate's mocking voice carried from the room's entrance. "This is,  
after all, partially for your benefit."

"Why are you doing this? She's done nothing wrong. That horse--I saw  
the house aflame and borrowed the horse so I might get there in time  
to save them. I was much too late, but then you know that, don't  
you?" William tried to pierce through his father's shield of easy  
denial. "What is this about, father?"

"This is about showing you the error of your choices." The magistrate  
replied acidicly, "and about keeping the village safe from witches  
such as this. Orders have come from high above me, son. You'll see  
the truth in time."

"I fail to see what these proceedings have to do with the truth."

"We shall see." He turned to Joseph, who was waiting near Diana's  
chair with the grin of the cat who knows he will get the cream. "Let's  
prepare the witch for questioning, shall we?" Turning again to  
William, the magistrate's eyes hardened. "You shall witness every  
thing that happens here. This is your punishment for being bewitched  
by such a woman. You are my son, and I do  
not wish you harmed. When this is done, you will leave this village  
and not return. If you fail to do this, William, you will be forcing  
my hand."

At a nod of the magistrate's head, Joseph reached to the ground and  
lifted a large earthenware jug. As he poured the contents over  
Diana's head she fought against the liquid, angling her head towards  
the floor, clamping her eyes and mouth closed. In his nose, William  
felt the sharp sting of nearly pure alcohol.  
"No! What are you doing to her?" William pulled at his bounds but  
they were much too secure; his father had taught Joseph well.

Once the deputy had thoroughly doused Diana's hair in the alcohol, he  
retrieved a candle from a small table next to him and lit it in one of  
the torches lighting the room. The magistrate spoke, "Much of a  
witches evil power is in her hair. With this devilish ornament, the  
witch enchants men and performs dark magic. Your lovely red tresses,  
Diana, are clearly a mark of shame." With that, Joseph touched the  
lit candle to Diana's alcohol-soaked hair.

Her head went up in a huge, sudden flame, but she didn't scream. Her  
eyes first opened large and shocked, but then shut tight, clenching  
down on the pain. But there was screaming, screams that echoed around  
the large room. William was hysterical, once again pulling at the  
ropes that bound him. His wrists were bleeding now; he thought Diana  
was being burned to death in front of him. After what was truly only  
a few seconds, the deputy beat out the last of the flames with a rough  
cloth.

Diana's beautiful, shining red hair was completely gone, her head  
crowned with awful burns. Her eyes remained closed for another minute  
as she apparently steeled herself, but when she opened them she sought  
out William's panicked gaze. "I'm okay, William," she whispered  
hoarsely.

"Will you now submit to questioning, Diana?" The magistrate's  
question was clearly rhetorical.

Diana answered, "I will answer your questions as I can, sir. I can  
tell you only what I know."

"Yes, indeed. You will tell me all you know." The magistrate removed  
a written list from the pouch at his waist. "How long have you been a  
witch?"

"I don't know what you mean. What do you mean by witch? I think I am  
a good woman."

"Refusal to answer is interpreted as a request for further punishment.  
Joseph--" Joseph slipped a knotted rope around Diana's neck. Holding  
it in his large, rough lands, he began to twist it tightly around her  
neck. Her hands reached up to fight the rope, but it was no good.  
Her breath was closing off, and she started to panic. Just as her  
lungs were burning as sharply as her head did, the rope was relaxed  
enough to allow her to breathe.

She took deep, ragged breaths and once again sought out William's  
eyes. His eyes were large and scared, but he kept quiet. He had a  
feeling that any protest from him would only make things worse for  
her. The magistrate continued, "Why did you become a witch?"

"I cannot answer these questions! Why are you doing this?" The rope  
was once again tightened around her throat but she didn't fight this  
time. When she was finally released, she simply hung her head down  
and tried to breathe.

Pacing in front of his victim, the magistrate explained, "We have seen  
evidence of your witchery for years, Diana, but we have just learned  
the evil of those ways. You claim the ability to cure without  
training from a medical college or the sanction of the holy church.  
Your sister practiced unholy arts. I am sure you are guilty of many  
crimes hidden from us my your magical guile. Now, ANSWER ME, how did  
you become a witch and what happened on that occasion."

"If what you mean by witchcraft is my healing of the sick, I learned  
the uses of plants as a small child from my mother and by  
experimenting. I helped your wife without any medical college, sir."

The hard slap across her face came quickly and unexpectedly. "You  
will answer my questions and nothing more. Understand, witch? You  
say you learned the uses of plants? So, what animals have you  
bewitched to sickness or death? Why have you committed such acts?"

"I have never--" The rope tightened around her neck again, and this  
time her head was yanked back with it. The pressure felt like it  
would crush her through, and her lungs were empty, dry with no air.  
She felt the edges of everything, including the pain, go dull and  
gray, but she was not allowed such respite.

"Get over here Joseph!" She heard the magistrate yelling and the  
sound of shoes scuffling over stone. A hollow pounding, which she had  
thought was coming from within her own head, stopped. As she opened  
her eyes, and her vision cleared, he saw the two men with William. He  
was bent over limply, and there was blood on the wall behind him. The  
two law-men were moving him, securing him more tightly; what had  
happened became clear to her.

Unable to use his hands or feet to help her, he used his head,  
entirely too literally. He had banged his head backwards against the  
unforgiving stone wall until he passed out. He had bought her some  
time to rest and recover; since these proceedings were to be performed  
in front of him they would not continue until he was conscious again.  
She silently thanked him and slid into her own oblivion.

*********

When she woke up she was cold. Her dress had been taken  
away, leaving her with only her thin under-dress. William was waking  
up too, finding himself surrounded with bales of hay that would  
prevent any repetition of his earlier behavior. He hadn't hurt  
himself bad enough, evidently. It was the same day, and they were  
preparing to go forward with Diana's "questioning" once more. When he  
saw her state of undress, he was suddenly terrified of what they might  
have done while he was blacked out.

The magistrate re-entered the room with Joseph behind him, and William  
couldn't stand the sight of them. "What have you done to her? Look  
at her! What have you done to her? She's with child, damn you, she's  
going to be my wife!"

"I think you should know by now, son, that things aren't going to  
quite work out that way. But relax, we've not done anything improper.  
Given her refusal to admit to her crimes, we were forced to search her  
for evidence."

"What evidence were you looking for, pray tell? This is obscene!"

"We found on various parts of her body several witch's marks. Clear  
evidence of her consorting with the devil. We found moles on her back  
and legs as well as a large mole on the side of her left breast,  
obviously the place favored by satan for his caresses."

"Moles? Are you insane, father?"

"The literature sent from London makes it clear that these are signs.  
Her denials mean nothing to us. You say she is with child. How can  
you know this child is your, William? She's an enchantress! This  
child may be the spawn of evil. You would father such a monstrosity?"  
The magistrate looked at his son with barely contained disgust. "We  
will continue with these proceedings."

William looked hopelessly over at Diana were she sat in her thin shift  
in the center of a cold room. She was the strongest woman he had ever  
seen, but even her strength was failing. The anger in her eyes had  
been obliterated by fear, and even the fear was giving way to  
weariness. How much more could she withstand?

The deputy resumed his place beside Diana, but he didn't take out the  
rope this time. He brought out two pairs of metal implements. One  
pair went on the floor, and her feet were placed inside, between two  
layers of thick iron. The other pair was attached to the arms of her  
chair, and her hands were sanwhiched between the pieces of metal. The  
magistrate resumed his place in front of Diana. Fixing her with a  
stare, he asked, "How do you call up the devil for your workings?"

She sighed tiredly, "I don't know what you want from me. I don't  
believe in any devil."

Joseph quickly kneeled by Diana's feet. Turning the screws on the top  
of the metal devices, he began to crush the delicate bones in her  
feet. Her control breaking, she screamed, her screams echoing around  
the stone-walled room. William couldn't help her, but he couldn't  
help himself either. He was pulling at his wrists and ankles, ripping  
open his skin, bleeding onto the damned hay. Joseph removed the  
pressure from Diana's feet, and her screams died away into weeping.

"Diana, Diana," the magistrate spoke softly. "It is in your power for  
this to stop. What I want from you is answers, but not the answers  
you have been giving me. I want to hear what you did and how you did  
it. And then this can stop, and you won't have to be in pain  
anymore."

She pulled her battered self together and stopped crying. "I've given  
you answers. I've told you the truth. Why won't you believe me?  
What do you want to hear?"

Joseph made a move to apply more pressure, but the magistrate held him  
off with a motion of his hand. He was frustrated with these  
proceedings, and his voice made that plain. "How can I trust the word  
of a witch, I ask you? You have given me lies about your innocence.  
I want to hear the truth of your evil actions, the details of your  
rituals with the devil! If you don't give me what I want, witch, I  
will make sure that when I finally let you die hell itself will be a  
respite!" These last words were spat out with such anger that the  
magistrate had to give himself a moment to catch his breath.

"Now, I will give you one more chance to tell me. How did you meet  
the devil? How do you call him up?"

She began to shake her head resignedly. "I still cannot answer. The  
only devil I've ever seen is that inside of men. And William watched  
the deputy reached over her to tighten the screws on her hands, her  
soft white hands that had held him, that had healed children, that had  
tended plants so skillfully. And this time her screams blotted out  
everything, they rose and filled the room with their horror. And they  
turned to words.

"Stop! Stop! I'll talk! I'll give you what you want. Just stop,  
stop this." Her words tapered off from screaming to a dull whisper as  
the screws were removed from her hands. She was crying again, but  
through her words, William could hear her confession. He dared not  
breathe.

"When I was thirteen, the devil came to me one night. He took me in  
the woods and gave me pleasure unlike any from a man." She breathed  
for a moment, looking in her torturer's eyes. He was happy; she was  
giving him what he wanted. "He told me that if I did his bidding, I  
could have powers beyond imagination. I was weak, so I agreed."

"Very good, Diana. Our lessons have taught you well. Now, how do you  
call him up?"

"I--I light a candle and call his name three times while walking in a  
circle."

"What is his name?"

"He has many names, I think, but I call him Dark Father."

"And what evil deed have you done for him?"

"I have not done many, sir. I am still learning his ways."

"I can accept that. What have you done already?"

"I have killed farm animals, sir. And, as you said, I have conceived  
this child."

"Yes, indeed. Now, tell me the names of other witches you know."

"I knew only my mother and sister, sir. And you have killed them  
already."

"And you know no others?"

"No, sir, I was not yet allowed to meet others. I was not fully  
initiated."

"This is acceptable. You have answered my questions and proven your  
guilt so that none can deny it. Joseph, return her to her cell." The  
magistrate waited until Diana was untied and out of the room before  
turning to his son. "You understand, William, that this was for your  
benefit." He proceeded to untie the ropes holding William down.  
"Now, do as I said and leave this place. I do not care to lay eyes on  
you again. Do as you will, but do not return, or you shall be treated  
no better than your witch."

Under his father's watchful eye, William slowly, unsteadily walked  
towards the door of the jail and out into the thick, cold night. He  
needed a plan, but he couldn't think. His mind was reeling, foggy and  
confused. He hadn't meant, they couldn't, how could they . . . He  
sank down the along the outer wall of the jail until he was curled  
upon the crisp, dewy grass. His mind was overloaded, and his head  
hurt from too many blows. Floating in the pain, he fell asleep.

When he woke up with a start, the moon was high overhead. A few hours  
had passed, and the jail was silent. William had to hope that his  
father and Joseph were asleep, and that Diana could be woken up.  
William quietly creeped around to the small window above the cell  
Diana was being kept in. The moonlight flowed into the small room,  
and he saw her sitting the corner. She looked tiny and broken, and  
she was not asleep. "Diana," he whispered to get her attention. She  
heard him and looked up.

"You don't have to whisper," she said quietly, "I can hear him  
snoring." She stood very carefully and painfully and limped over to  
the window. She looked so awful that he wanted, all over again, to  
kill everyone who had something to do with her pain. Including  
himself. Her hair was entirely gone, and her head was a mess of burns  
and blisters. Her neck was bruised and scraped and swollen. Her  
hands and feet were swollen and misshapen. Her face was drawn with  
pain, her eyes dark and sunken.

"I'm so sorry, Diana," he found himself crying, both for her and for  
himself.

"It's not your fault, William. You didn't do this to me," she spoke  
without passion. "They did this to me to make you believe." He  
looked up at her, not understanding. "You look for darkness out  
there, the fairies and whatnot, but the real mysteries are inside  
people. The real evil and the real darkness lives within us all. If  
you accept what they want you to believe, then they've won."

"I would never do that. I--I can't believe what they say, but I have  
to believe there is more than we know of."

"Keep talking like that, and you'll end up like me. I'm of no use to  
them now, except as a warning. I think they're going to kill me  
tomorrow."

"I won't let them."

"You can't stop them, that much should be clear to you. Go away from  
here, William, while you still can. I'm tired now, William, I'm going  
to sleep." She all but collapsed to the floor of her cell, a small  
white bundle propped by the wall.

"I don't know if I can do that. I love you, Diana."

"I love you too," she whispered, not moving from her position, "and I  
always, always will."

Morning was coming, and if he didn't get away from the jail soon he  
would be found. Stumbling away from the building with bleary eyes and  
weak legs, William quickly changed his path as a young girl stepped  
out in front of him. "William," called the small voice, and he looked  
up with a gasp.

"Janet! My god, my god, we thought you died with them. Where have you  
been?" The child looked well, she must have been taken care of by  
someone.

"My mother saw it," she spoke quietly, "She sent me away."

"Where? How?" he stuttered, "Do you need my help Janet?"

"No, Diana needs what help you can give. I am being cared for is all  
you must know." The young girl opened up a small folded package from  
the leather pouch tied to her waist. "My mother gave me instructions  
that I must give these to you. They are Deadly Nightshade berries."

"What?" William looked up, shocked.

"They'll ease her pain. And her passing, William."

He nodded slowly and looked again at the child. She couldn't have  
been more than seven, but her eyes were old already, and the look in  
them was fey, not entirely human. "You're a very brave girl, Janet."  
She nodded and looked back towards the forest, but he stopped her with  
a hand on her small arm. "Who is taking care of you?"

She looked up at him steadily. "They told me that if I went with them  
I could see my mother again one day."

"They?" William asked, helpless to stop himself.

Once again opening the purse on her waist, Janet drew out a small,  
shiny object on a black leather cord. "My fairy knife," William  
whispered to himself. Janet reached into the pouch one more time with  
her small hand and drew out another object, this one a small, round  
rock hanging on a rough jute cord. William took it from her quickly.

"This was my sister's," he spoke quietly. "She found the holed stone  
one day, and I helped her make it into a necklace," he looked at young  
Janet piercingly, "How did you get this?"

"She's safe, William. You will not see her again in this life, but  
one day you shall meet again. She never really belonged to you; she  
is one of them." And with that Janet faded back into the forest.  
William slipped both charms around his neck and tucked them under his  
shirt as he tried to figure out where to go next.

It would be a few hours before they would do anything with Diana.  
Preparations would have to be made, people gathered. William decided  
that it would be best for him to be seen leaving the village, so he  
set his steps onto the road leading north. His head still hurt a lot  
from the beating he'd taken at the hands of Joseph and the beating  
he'd given himself. The pain was making it hard to think about the  
plans that had to be made.

The pain, to him, was a punishment. His culpability in Diana's arrest  
and torture, her death probably, the deaths of Margaret, Lizzy and  
John was inescapable. He had lost his sister, and he would never see  
her again. He believed Janet's words absolutely. The weight of these  
deeds was crushing him, but he had to keep moving. Had to force his  
brain to think and devise a plan.

Finally, as the sun rose higher in the sky, he made his decision.  
There were few choices,as William saw it. He had no one, his father  
hand sent him away, and he would never find his sister. He believed  
that now. He might be able to find another teaching job, but he would  
have to leave the village. And who could he offer as a reference to  
support his claims of knowledge? The only choice left to him was  
joining a monastery. He respected the brothers for their learning,  
but after this he could have nothing to do with the church. He had  
seen what men would do for the love of their god. The love he had was  
for one woman, and she would be gone by nightfall.

So, his decision made, he had to head back to the village unseen.  
Checking to make sure there was no one on the road, he slipped off the  
road and into the forest. One of the gifts Diana had given him was an  
understanding of the woods. He doubled back towards the village, and  
took a shortcut that would lead him directly to the commons square.  
As he got close he knew that she had been right.

It was going to be a public execution of the most violent kind. Word  
had gone around that there was to be a burning; a witch had been  
captured, they said. No one knew who it was, but they had heard of  
these evil women. One year blended into the other in the life of the  
village; and this kind of excitement was not to be missed. Everyone  
was in the square that morning; even the shops closed.

Lurking at the edge of the trees, William could see this, and it made  
his plan that much easier. Staying under cover of the woods, he  
circled around until he was behind the blacksmith's shop. The door  
was open, of course, so he slipped inside swiftly to avoid being seen  
by anyone who might be arriving late in the square. Arming himself  
with a short sword and cloaking himself in a dark wool cape, William  
left the shop and moved along the edge of the crowd towards the jail.

She had not been brought out of the jail yet, but preparations were  
being made rapidly. A stake had been erected in front of the jail,  
and firewood was being arranged around it. The people who had  
gathered were either watching this process or talking about what was  
going to happen. William, hidden by his borrowed cloak, was able to  
walk around the crowd to the side window of Diana's cell without  
attracting any notice. He just had to hope that she was alone, and  
indeed she was. She looked much the same as she had earlier. She was  
once again sitting it the corner, but she seemed to be talking to  
herself. When William listened closer, he realized she was chanting  
something like a prayer. It sounded ancient and beautiful, and the  
way Diana sang it made it a dirge.

"Diana," he hissed, to get her attention.

Her head turned towards the unexpected voice. The sadness in her eyes  
cut William to the core, but he knew he couldn't save her, only help  
her. "What are you doing here still? Do you know what they're going  
to do? You have to leave, William, for your own sake."

"That's not important now. Please, I have something I have to give  
you." He stuck his hand through the iron bars of the tiny window and  
dropped the cloth package of berries down to where Diana could reach  
them. She crawled to the spot beneath the window where they fell and  
opened the pouch. From the surprise in her eyes, he could tell that  
she knew what they were. And what they were for.

"Where did you get these? How did you know?"

"They were given to me by Janet. Yes, Lizzy's daughter," he added at  
her questioning look. "Lizzy saw what was going to happen and sent  
her away. Instructed her to get these to me." Diana nodded,  
understanding. "I have to go now, before I'm discovered. I love you.  
I want to be with you forever."

"At this late hour, I have come to believe that my mother and sister  
were right. Fate moves in our lives, bringing us together and tearing  
us apart. I have to believe we will be together again. Now, leave,  
please. And don't let them catch you."

Blinking away tears, he reluctantly walked away from the small window.  
He blended back into the rear of the crowd, and the cloak hid more  
than his identity. His face shadowed by the deep hood, he let the  
tears fall down his pale, set face. Before long, he heard the crowd  
hush and looked up. Diana was being led out of the jail, her arms and  
ankles once again tied together with rough rope. From the blank,  
far-away look on her face, William was reassured that she had taken  
the berries. He only hoped that they would work; that she would feel  
no pain.

He waited for people to recognize her, realize that this "witch" was  
the woman who had tended them when they were ill, who had saved their  
lives even. Even as the deputy raised her onto a low platform and  
tied her nearly-limp body to the stake, no one raised a protest, and  
then William realized why. With her hair gone, her body broken, her  
spirit obliterated, she was unrecognizable. To them, she was just a  
stranger who was clearly a witch.

William tried to look away as they started the fire at Diana's feet.  
He was reassured by her lack of fear. She was awake, just barely, but  
she wasn't feeling anything. The new fire smoked as the flames tried  
to grow, and soon she was coughing. For a moment, he thought that her  
coughs would undo him. She was helpless to stop them, and her body  
wracked with each cough, but soon she stopped and hung still by her  
bounds. For a moment after she passed out, William could breath  
again. She wasn't in pain, and the fire was still below her feet.

But a breeze picked up in the square, and the flames ate the air  
hungrily. They rose from the logs and finally found what they had  
been searching for--the hem of her skirt. From that point it went  
quickly. The flames enveloped her, hiding her from view. The crowd,  
as well as the deputy and the magistrate, were fixed on the horrific  
site. William's moment had come.

Dropping his cloak and pulling out the short-sword that had been  
hidden underneath, he pushed through the crowd. Rushing the platform,  
he stabbed the deputy neatly in the chest and shoved him over. He  
could feel the heat radiating off of the burning figure, off of Diana,  
but he had to continue.

He raised his voice so that he could be heard above the fire and the  
murmurs of the crowd. "This woman you all burn today as a witch is  
Diana, the one who has healed you, tended your children, eased your  
pain. These are the men who lead you," he gestured toward the  
magistrate and others standing at the front of the crowd. William  
seemed to dare his father to intervene, but the man did not move. He  
simply stood there silently. "These are the men who invoke god to  
sanction murder. I cannot be one of them anymore."

With that, he hoisted his lanky frame onto the platform where Diana  
was now invisible through the raging flames. He drew one long breath  
and leapt into the fire, clasping his arms around what was left of the  
woman he loved. All anyone heard after that was his screams.

When the flames found Diana, she was already unconscious, almost dead.  
If she felt the burning at all, it was in a deep part of her mind  
incapable of voicing her pain. William, however, had no such barrier.  
He gave himself over to a live fire while fully awake. He felt it  
invade his body immediately. He breathed in the flames, and they  
scorched his lungs, silencing his horrific screams. His hair was gone  
in seconds. He could feel the fire eating at his skin, at his eyes.  
His last conscious though was that when this fire when out, his and  
Diana's bodies would be inseparable, indistinguishable. They would  
have to be buried in one grave.

The smoke from this pyre rose up through the crisp fall air. Twisting  
and curling past the rooftops, out of the village, beyond time. The  
audience to this grim spectacle couldn't look each other in the eye as  
they silently returned to their lives. Things would never be the same  
again.

**Author's Note:**

> Another Author's Note: Well, I hope that wasn't too upsetting. The  
> torture I depicted here is a selection of the most mild techniques  
> used. I just couldn't make myself write the more horrific stuff, but  
> be aware that it happened. I mostly want to say here that the ideas  
> of reincarnation in this story are just meant to be for the story. I  
> do believe in reincarnation, but I certainly don't think that--Dead  
> Again-style--we look the same from life to life. Goodness knows, I  
> hope not. I do think that there are people we're tied to from  
> life to life, sort of like in Cat's Cradle by Kurt Vonnegut. Mulder  
> and Scully clearly (to me) have this sort of tie. Though I don't  
> particularly want them to get together on the show, I think they have  
> had that kind of relationship with each other in the past. It kind of  
> *informs* their interactions, in my view of things.
> 
> The lyrics of the ballad sung early in the story are from The False  
> Knight on the Road. The words she heard him speak in her dream are  
> from another ballad called Tam Lin. Both are very old, anonymous, and  
> assumedly under public domain.
> 
> ** Opening quote and much information on the torture used on accused  
> witches comes from a wonderful website authored by  
> Bugbear--http://www.odyssy.net/users/erica/wicca/crusade.htm. See that  
> site for further disturbing information about the horrors of the past.  
> It's also a good source for information about modern-day witchcraft if  
> you are so inclined.


End file.
